Who should have the ultimate say over a child's medical treatment? A series of high-profile withdrawal of care cases have highlighted the full extent of the courts’ authority to make decisions on behalf of children in the medical context. In both the Charlie Gard and Alfie Evans litigation, the courts have made clear that they have the power to make medical decisions for children at the point that child's welfare is engaged. All courts involved in both cases affirmed the orthodox position that the threshold for judicial intervention in disputes about medical care of children is the welfare of the child, often referred to as the “best interests” approach (referring to both the threshold and the test applied to determine what should be done). While no new point of law has been decided in these cases, they are important in that they confirm just how expansive the inherent jurisdiction of the courts in such cases is, extending as far as to prevent parents from removing their child to another jurisdiction to pursue alternative treatment. In this paper, we argue that the current threshold for intervention is too low. We argue that prima facie decision-making authority about a child's medical care should rest with the child's parents, affording them the ability to choose between the range of medical options available. This authority should yield only where the parents’ decision carries a “serious risk of significant harm” to the child, at which point the court then has the authority to intervene. When it does so, the court should then apply the best interests approach.

The Offences Against the Person Act 1861 is much disparaged by today's criminal lawyers. Its provisions have been described as “impenetrable” by the Court of Appeal. The House of Lords could not conceal its dissatisfaction with what is called “the irrational result of this piecemeal legislation”. Andrew Ashworth has written of the “antiquated and illogical structure” of an Act which the Law Commission regards as “unsatisfactory in very many respects”. Most recently Brooke J., launching the latest version of the Commission's reform package, lambasted the operation of the 1861 Act as “a disgrace”, and claimed that this hostile view is shared in every corner of the criminal justice system.

The tribunals system in England and Wales has been transformed by the entry into force of the Tribunals, Courts and Enforcement Act 2007; among other things, tribunals are now located more firmly and explicitly than ever before within the judicial branch. Questions concerning the relationship between tribunals and regular courts fall to be confronted afresh within this new institutional landscape. Those questions form the focus of this article, which is particularly concerned with the issue recently considered by the Supreme Court in Cart whether, and if so to what extent, decisions taken within the tribunals system (by the Upper Tribunal) should be susceptible to judicial review by the High Court. In Cart, emphasis was placed upon the concept of “proportionate dispute resolution” as a means by which to delimit regular courts' oversight of tribunals' decisions, raising fundamental questions both of legal doctrine (relating to the relevance of the orthodox doctrinal tools of administrative law) and legal policy (concerning the degree of error on the part of a tribunal that a higher court should tolerate in the interests of the efficient, or proportionate, use of judicial resources).

The doctrine of legitimate expectations is a developing area of administrative law, and many issues remain outstanding. Promises, practices, and policies generate legitimate expectations, but what is special about them? Why do they and only they generate legitimate expectations? The lack of an obvious answer has led some commentators to claim that the doctrine is ultimately incoherent and should be disaggregated. In this paper, we challenge this claim by arguing, first, that promises, practices, and policies each comprise or make applicable a certain type of rule, and second, that having a legitimate expectation is a matter of such a rule binding a public body to act in some way. This rule-based account gives the doctrine of legitimate expectations both coherence and distinctiveness.

The difference of judicial opinion in the Supreme Court in Evans provokes reflection on fundamental constitutional principles, such as parliamentary sovereignty and the rule of law. A statute that on its face seems to permit a government minister to override a judicial decision of which he disapproves inevitably raises acute concern; the correct reading of the statute depends on the most persuasive integration of basic principles, placing the text within its wider constitutional context. The Justices deployed distinctions between law, fact, and public interest in rather different ways, reflecting their divergent interpretative approaches. The role of constitutional convention is also of particular interest – central to the legal issues arising, on one view, but largely irrelevant on another. At the root of these disagreements lie contrasting conceptions of law and adjudication.

The criminological positivists at the turn of the century started a good deal of creative rethinking about the criminal law. Some of their proposals have gained widespread acceptance in the criminal law as we know it today. Others made no headway at all. One particular proposal, and a very fundamental one indeed, began a controversy which has ebbed and flowed regularly since. That is the proposal to eliminate from the criminal law the whole apparatus of substantive principles, or at least some of them, such as the legal insanity defence, which owe their presence to the law's traditional concern for distinguishing the guilty and the innocent in terms of their blameworthiness. The essence of the proposal is that innocence in this sense, moral innocence, if you will, should not disqualify a person from the consequences of the penal law. Moral innocence should, it is urged, give way to social dangerousness as the basis for a criminal disposition.

This article develops a new theoretical framework for understanding consumer contract law, one based on competing ethics of self-interest/reliance and need. It shows how this is a better way of understanding choices as to levels of protection than the traditional “freedom versus fairness” framework. The self-interest/reliance ethic favours rules allowing traders to use processes to escape responsibility for poor quality and harsh outcomes, while the need ethic is concerned with consumer weaknesses and better protects against such outcomes. The article also shows that need-based rules are usually more effective at improving clarity and certainty, and where such rules cause uncertainty, at least as much uncertainty is caused by the alternative self-interest/reliance-based rules.

Very substantial constitutional changes have been introduced or announced by the present Government. The article discusses these critically from the point of view of the senior judiciary.

The long wait for a privacy law in England might appear finally to be over. The Lord Chancellor predicted that his Human Rights Bill, on enactment, would usher one in. Some two months after the resulting Act came into force the Court of Appeal seemed, with remarkably little fuss, duly to recognise an action for invasion of privacy in Douglas & Zeta-Jones v. Hello!2 Moreover, this was achieved by employing (it was said) only the existing action for breach of confidence, and so the court could avoid frightening the horses, by appearing not to be doing anything new (or noteworthy) at all. Further, the court deftly avoided the contested quicksands of the horizontal effect (or not) of the Human Rights Act 1998.

The capacity of the common law to develop and evolve is well recognised within both private and public law. This is indeed one of its enduring qualities. The objective of the present article is not, however, to contribute to the jurisprudential debate concerning the nature of the adjudicative process at common law. My object is more modest. It is to consider and place in perspective some of the recent developments which have occurred at common law in relation to the duty of public authorities to provide reasons. It is a well known and oft repeated proposition that there is no general common law duty to furnish the reasons for a decision. It is equally well known that this proposition has been the target of regular attack by those who argue that such a general duty should exist. A reconsideration of both of these propositions is timely in the light of case law developments culminating in the House of Lords' judgment in R. v. Secretary of State for the Home Department, ex p. Doody.

This article reflects on a group of constitutional devices: mechanisms that empower one state institution to defend itself against another. The institution is given a shield to protect against the attentions of another body, or is given a sword it can use to repel an attack. Self-defence mechanisms are interesting for many reasons, but particularly for the light they cast on the separation of powers. These measures seem contrary to the normal prescriptions of that principle, allocating a capacity to a body that it appears ill suited to possess. Understanding why the separation of powers requires these surprising allocations helps explain its operation in ordinary contexts.

It is beyond dispute now that corporations have replaced states as the most important makers of waves in the world's economy. It is also firmly established that with the increasing globalisation of that economy corporations operate in many cases far beyond the borders of the country that presided over their birth. A company which crosses frontiers to operate outside its original jurisdiction can bring problems of several different kinds in its wake. A court dealing with such a company may have to ascertain which law is, or should be, the law which regulates its affairs. The company may have internal disorders or may be experiencing difficulties in its external relationships. In seeking to grapple with these problems the jurisdictions of the world are broadly divided into two camps. There are those which look to the law of the place of the company's incorporation to govern these matters, and those which look to the law of the place of the central administration of the company as being the correct law to be supreme in this field. Some jurisdictions take a variety of half-way positions in this debate.

To see what international law can offer in an apparently chaotic and fast changing world is far from easy. But it is only by examining and trying to understand the evolving international system that some answers may be found, because international law and international relations are in a symbiotic relationship.

The characterising features of the contemporary international system are globalisation on the one hand and a unipolar power structure on the other. The former is having a significant impact on international law as by its very nature actors are engaged in transactions across State boundaries in alliances that are not bounded by nationality. Modern technology facilitates these alliances of interest and gives an unprecedented voice to non-State actors, whether in human rights, in environmental matters or in international markets.

The concentration of military power in the United States had led to various incremental changes in authorisations of force by the United Nations, whether for peacekeeping or for enforcement actions. The evolving relationship between the United Nations and NATO has negative as well as positive factors and needs careful monitoring.

Distributed ledgers and blockchain technology are widely expected to promote more direct shareholder involvement in corporate governance by reducing costs of voting and trade clearance. Meanwhile, artificial intelligence may shrink the decision-making terrain where corporations rely on human management. This article analyses these technologies and concludes that, while such outcomes are plausible, their potential corporate governance impacts are likely more complex and contingent. Despite the implicit libertarianism that characterises much of the discourse, we in fact have choices to make about how such technologies are developed and deployed – and these policy decisions will have to be grounded in a normative conception of corporate purpose external to the technology itself.

The 2013 horsemeat scandal shone a bright light on some of the darkest corners of supply-chain governance across the EU, revealing a blind spot in current EU food law. “Beef” frozen-food products were found to contain up to 100% horse. The British and Irish are squeamish about eating horse. Even for those countries where horsemeat is seen as a delicacy, the horse getting into the frozen “beef” was often of poor quality and possibly contaminated with “bute”, a veterinary drug not permitted in food for human consumption. The ability of the EU's regulatory regime to prevent fraud on such a scale was shown to be inadequate. EU food law, with its (over) emphasis on food safety, failed to prevent the occurrence of fraud and may even have played an (unintentional) role in facilitating or enhancing it. Domestic law offered little better protection, thus showing the difficulties associated with the implementation of a multi-level and multi-agency regulatory regime. Beyond the regulatory system, the EU's core Treaty commitment to the free movement of goods may also have laid the ground for complex and opaque supply chains into which unscrupulous traders and middlemen could slip unnoticed.

In his famous Rede lecture of 1901, Maitland posed the question why the medieval law of England survived the period when (as he said) old creeds were crumbling everywhere and Roman law was pushing German law out of Germany. Much controversy has reigned since Maitland's time not only about his conclusions and his evidence, but also about the precise gist of his question—since it is not wholly clear what assumptions he was making about the nature of the so-called “Reception” of Roman law in Europe or about the extent to which the medieval common law really did survive in England. It is not the purpose of this paper to provide yet another interpretation of Maitland, but rather to re-examine from a different viewpoint the subject which he opened.